Woven together on the loom of our time, we the many dissimilar threads, which in their turn are woven by birth and life’s experience form the fabric, or tapestry, of our collective history going forward. Making the bone yard of what the next generations will stand upon.
What will they say of us?
Our accomplishments and failures?
If I grew to this age of seventy-two skeptical, skepticism began curling fetal beneath elementary school desks awaiting the implosion of glass windows, bricks and mortar shredding: me—school mates—the entirety of our time. Threats of extinction remain in differing forms. Most prevalent is the slander of children defined as vocational education for which we will only question at the advent of middle-age when death and boredom predominate our attention.
Through my childhood another education was going on between two different venues: one in which material wealth was extolled. The other: a closer relationship with earthly reality was celebrated. My sense, for now, is we should try to fully inhabit our lives to the extent that what we spend, our time and resources, will grow the next generation intimate with the ground of our collective being that the world will remain the mother of us all.
Obvious in my metaphor is equality of genders, tolerance for our manifold ways of defining good; the meaning and value of life itself. The Kingdom of The Self extends no further than one’s nose; regarding influence upon the energy that impels life forward. Yet it remains the singular Hall Mark of those whose lives were lived that we are able to choose between instant death and eternal verities.
On the Bell Curve of mean averages, the majority live within the middle two thirds oblivious to questions I might raise. Yet for the many who sacrificed their lives that we are able to do so, should be honored in Democracy, by responsible participation.
I do not always arise from my previous rest period incandescent with inspiration. For example this morning my mind was cold mashed potatoes, or Fluffer Nutter, merely aware that I was at peace. Meaning that, retrospectively, I was in conflict with no one and nothing. For which I should, in conscious mindfulness be grateful. And I am. Yet sense a lingering resentment that noting compelled me to write until I discovered:
“Someday, maybe, there will exist a well-informed, well considered and yet fervent public conviction that the most deadly of all possible sins is the mutilation of a child’s spirit.” - Erik Erikson
Somehow eliciting a concern for the odds against tomorrow. The peace I know does not guarantee my safety but merely my fearless focus in how to deal with it. Life happens, it begins and ends suddenly. Necessity to write is prompted by my skepticism that there will be a tomorrow for me — or you — or all of us. Life is too precious to sell/spend amused seeking pleasure. My joy is to ask that you be a real person not a slave to anyone or thing fearlessly.
06:30
Light years seem to have passed between the above and now — I did get horizontal for a time to rest. I will close with the following quotes:
"Be open to all teachers and all teachings, And listen with your heart."
"In India, when we meet and greet and we say "Namaste", which means: I honor the place in you where the entire universe resides, I honor the place in you of love, of light, of truth, of peace. I honor the place within you where if you are in that place in you and I am in that place in me, there is only one of us." - Ram Dass
"Each of us, as we journey through life, has the opportunity to find and to give his or her unique gift. Whether this gift is quiet or small in the eyes of the world does not matter at all—not at all; it is through the finding and the giving that we may come to know the joy that lies at the center of both the dark times and the light."
- Helen M. Luke
130615 EDT 02:56 loom
© 2013 by Jack Spratt—All Rights Reserved
